Week one Arrival
by Arka1248
Summary: New adventurers arrive at the Hamlet.


The old stagecoach shook and jumped over bumps as their wild ride continued through the grim woods. Paumera's beads clattered to the beat. She bowed her head so that her cape concealed her face and whispered prayers.

"God, protect us". Bertran could only distinguish these words over and over again, though she tried to strain her hearing just for the sake of distraction. She groped for one of the grenades in her satchel and clasped her hand around it.

"The cursed brute is going to smash the carriage on boulders with us," she muttered. She moved the carriage's curtains and let out a sigh of relief. "We shouldn't be far. I saw a cemetery over there; the Heir mentioned it in the letter."

Paumera did not say anything, yet she raised her head and Bertran thought she saw a glimmer of hope in the vestal's eyes.

Paumera reached to take Bertran's hand in her own.

"Do not doubt, do not hesitate, do not fear. We are to meet our destiny."

Bertran thought the firmness in the vestal's voice could crack boulders on their way if Paumera desired it. She straightened and bent her head in consent. While Paumera apparently sought to resolve her spiritual issues, whatever they might be, Bertran was lured into these lands by the ringing voice of coin. Entering the Sanitarium as apprentice resulted in a heavy financial burden. The tomes, the lectures, the reagents - the knowledge demanded a bottomless purse of coins she, a poor studiosus with a hole in her pocket, did not possess. In Sanitarium they would call her _plutomaniac_. She scowled when the word rang in her head.

Retrieving her hand from Paumera's grip, she fetched her plague doctor's mask, cast a glimpse inside it and eventually put it on. Her fingers did not tremble while adjusting it on her face and she almost felt unnaturally serene.

The carriage jumped again and then stopped so suddenly that both women fell from the hard bench onto the floor, one on top of another.

"Ah, curse you, dimwitted ghoul," cursed the plague doctor, "If you shattered my reagents, I'll-"

"Get out! Get out!" yelled the Caretaker with his hoarse voice. Paumera grabbed Betran's arm and they both fell out into the freedom, their legs trembling. Before them towered the decrepit gates of the Hamlet, and the crook Caretaker was already opening them wide with a deafening and disgusting scraping - a true offence and a challenge to their ears.

"Let us go, Betran, let us go." Paumera pushed the plague doctor forward. They staggered through the gate to the gloomy mansion in the twilight. The ominousness of the place weighed hard on their shoulders and they stooped as they walked in silence.

* * *

When they passed something that resembled a broken nomad wagon, a figure stepped out of the shadows. They flinched and were met with barking laughter. Yet it belonged to a creature of flesh and blood. Bertran examined the man's worn overcoat, a flintlock and a blade on his belt - surely it was a highwayman that stood before them.

"Greetings, girls," he sneered, "Me and my friend are already bored to death in this God-damned place. Your presence will bless these ruins with light." He laughed again.

Betran snorted in contempt. "Begone, you ragamuffin. We are tired after a long ride and we want to talk to the Heir, not to some rats from the highway." She had already gathered herself. No human being would scare her; she had seen and touched plenty of them and their parts on her dissection table.

Heavy, sluggish steps disturbed the roadway and another figure approached them from the dusk. Bertran stared at the newcomer, the place shredding her of her manners.

"It's a crusader," Paumera whispered to Bertran with some new tone in her voice, "A holy warrior of God."

Bertran wished to see if Paumera flushed while talking to her, but the dim light and the vestal's cape concealed the expression of her recently acquired friend.

"Pardon my companion, ladies. We feel no more secure here than you are. My name is Reynauld and this is Dismas. We are most pleased to meet you here. Sister of Faith. Sister of Science." He bowed to each of them. "Allow us to lead you to the Heir. We were informed of your arrival."

Betran softened at his courteous words. "My friend's name is Paumera. She is a vestal from the Temple. And I am Bertran, a plague doctor. I graduated from the Sanitarium two years ago."

Dismas the highwayman sneered again. "Your parents wanted a male heir too much, didn't they?"

"A case of extreme anxiety in a neurotic patient. Symptoms: an excessive amount of bland jokes," she intoned in her most academic voice.

Reynauld laughed, Paumera smiled shyly, and Dismas diddered and coughed. The tension disappeared as though the grim atmosphere of the ominous place withdrew before good spirits and sincere sounds of mirth, and they all headed towards the mansion.

* * *

That night Bertran had nightmares about strange, horrible beasts and nameless creatures waiting for autopsy. She studied them and they came to life clawing for her with their separated paws. Yet in the morning she was relieved that any more details escaped her memory.

When she searched for Paumera's lodgings or any of the previous day's acquaintances, she stumbled upon a queer man on the stairs. The feverish glow in his eyes reminded her of patients they had held in the Sanitarium - the lunatics from the mental ward. The man sniggered when he had passed her by and shivers crawled up her spine.

"Must be the Ancestor," she muttered to herself when she had reached a safe distance, "The Heir mentioned that he is a person with oddities." The Heir might have just arrived to this place not long before them and did not belong to this Hamlet with its dark secrets. A person from the real world and she could not help but draw some kind of relief from this fact.

She found Paumera in the courtyard at the well, talking to the crusader and the other lad. They greeted her and Reynauld turned to her.

"So, as I have already said, we met with the Heir this morning. We discussed our plans. The Heir wants us to scout the upper level of the Ruins. He supposed that it will a short expedition and not too dangerous. Yet we should stay on guard. Only God knows what awaits us there. He sponsors our expedition and his funds are moderate. We should take only the most necessary supplies. We should also search for anything valuable inside the Ruins to help him to restore this decayed Hamlet. More people will come, but we are the first. Paumera, Bertran, will you join us in our venture?"

"Yes, brother in Faith." Resolved ringed in Paumera's voice. She brought a bottle out of her satchel. "This holy water will help us in cleansing that forsaken place."

"I saved up a vial of antivenom," replied Bertran, "Having an antivenom never hurts, especially in untrodden, potentially dangerous places. Bites, infection, tetanus in the soil, you'll never know. Sometimes it's a choice between taking an antivenom and amputation…"

"Oh we understood already - we are not the students on your lecture, Professor," grumbled Dismas, "Reynauld, you wanted to buy some meals for us and search for a spade. The Heir said the vaults might crumble on our way. I will fetch us torches, unless we want to lurk in total darkness. Do we? I don't feel like I want to shoot on sound tomorrow." He winked at the vestal and the plague doctor.

"Let's go, Bertran," said Paumera, "It's time for breakfast and then we can explore the outskirts. Tomorrow will be an important day for us all."


End file.
